


Observations from the Outside (Or, We’re Not a Couple; Yes You Are)

by nutmeag83



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Falling In Love, Family, Ficlet Collection, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, M/M, Not TFP-compliant, Observations, POV Outsider, Post-Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-22 01:58:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9577127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nutmeag83/pseuds/nutmeag83
Summary: A collection of interconnected ficlets. Observations by John's and Sherlock's friends and family as they watch these two idiots take that final step from friendship to romance (Post S4; not TFP-compliant.





	1. A Chemical Defect

**Author's Note:**

> A little nugget popped into my head one evening of Mycroft observing Sherlock and John. After I wrote it, I wanted to write more from other POVs, and thus this collection was born. I'm not sure who all I'll include. Those in the tags for sure. Might add more later. 
> 
> Edit 14 Feb 2017: This story became more interconnected than I originally planned on, so you'll need to read them all and in order to get a full sense of what's going on. Each chapter follows the thoughts of one character.
> 
> Enjoy.

“Just here,” Mycroft says to the driver, looking out the darkened window as the car comes to a halt. A couple walks toward him unsuspectingly on the pavement, a young child in a pram being pushed by both men. She is older than when Sherlock had proudly shoved her picture in his big brother’s face. But of course she’s grown. Children do that. Mycroft thinks she looks happy, but he is hardly the best judge of that. She could be dirtying up a nappy for all he knows.

So he moves his focus back to the couple. _We’re not a couple_ , echoes a frustrated voice in his head that sounds much like Doctor Watson’s. True, they aren’t a couple in the way society labels couples—though many in society _had_ labeled them a couple long ago—but, for all intents and purposes, they are a couple. And, if their body language is to be believed, they are close to taking that final step. He estimates eleven days (and he is never wrong).

Each man has his inner hand on the handlebar of the pram, their steps perfectly in sync after seven years—hell, they’d been in sync since day one. John is grinning as Sherlock explains some inane thing, free hand gesticulating in front of him. Whatever the punchline is, it has John stopping to bend over in a belly laugh, hand gripping Sherlock’s elbow to keep upright. The child claps as she listens, her smile so much like her father’s.

When John finally catches his breath, he straightens, and they start walking again without any noticeable communication. He says something, then walks a bit sideways to nudge the taller man with his shoulder. Sherlock grins and looks at the top of John’s head with such love that Mycroft’s breath catches. It isn’t the first time he has seen a look of love on his brother’s face—the night at Appledore crosses his mind briefly—and he has to remind himself that he needn’t worry anymore.

Which, of course, is ridiculous. He will always worry about Sherlock. He’s worried since the moment he first held his infant brother in his arms. He’s worried since he saw how deeply his baby brother cared about everything. He’s worried since the first doss house. Since the first crime Sherlock failed to solve. Since the day his brother wholeheartedly trusted a strange army doctor within a day of meeting him.

Mycroft realized early on that sentiment is a chemical defect, a fault he couldn’t bear to possess. He taught Sherlock the same. Unwittingly, at first. But baby brother had always looked up to big brother, so his emulation wasn’t that surprising. It pained Mycroft to see Sherlock turn cold and dark, but he thought it would protect the younger man, so he’d encouraged it, in his way. They were, for quite some time, the untouchable Holmes boys. Until the day Sherlock borrowed a stranger’s phone and began to thaw. He fought it, to be sure, but Mycroft knew the moment John Watson stepped out of the car at the warehouse that first night that Sherlock would lose.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t only Sherlock’s heart that John Watson helped to thaw. For the first time in years, Mycroft Holmes put his hope in love. He has regretted it many times since. The day Sherlock faked his death. The day John and Mary vowed to love and cherish each other until death parted them. The day his baby brother shot a media tycoon. The day John Watson looked at Sherlock in hatred over his dead wife’s body and said “Don’t you dare.” And at every point in between when the one person he has vowed to always protect was in agony.

Yes, Mycroft has good reason to avoid sentiment. He will go to his grave believing he is in the right. But, looking at the not-couple slowly making their way up the pavement, he knows that what is right for him isn’t right for everyone. Isn’t right for either his brother or the army doctor who loves him. Love may have caused them great pain, but it has also brought them great joy, and it has turned them into better men than either could have become alone.

He watches as the trio slows to a halt in front of a frozen yogurt shop. Sherlock moves to the front of the pram and pulls the toddler into his arms. Mycroft sees his brother’s face transform into a happy grin—his real one—and he also notices the look of utter contentment and happiness that crosses Doctor Watson’s features. Sherlock holds the door as John pushes the empty pram across the threshold, then puts his hand on the shorter man’s back to guide him through the shop.

Again, Mycroft tells himself he needn’t worry anymore. These three will protect each other now. But _he_ will protect them. It may be a chemical defect, but in this one very specific case, it’s worth it.


	2. Working with Dead People is Bound to Lower Your Standards

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m raising the rating to Teen, because Molly’s got a bit of a potty mouth.

Molly has never found living things particularly easy to understand. As a child, she preferred burying the poor birds the family cat dragged in, rather than having one as a pet. It got worse when Dad died. All she had wanted to do was to crawl into the casket with him, rather than being left with a mother who had never cared for Molly all that much. She decided then that she would be a speaker for the dead. She did eventually get a few cats of her own, but living friends were always hard to come by.

Sherlock was different. He was like a live wire, and Molly couldn’t help but be attracted to the danger and intelligence he exuded. She knew from the beginning that a romantic relationship wasn’t likely, but he was the magnet and she just a paperclip.

When he had asked for her help to fake his suicide, she didn’t even think about saying no. And it wasn’t just unrequited love; he was her friend. She would have helped Greg or John if they had needed her. But in investing her with the power to keep him safe, Sherlock also gave Molly the power to step away from him. To finally say “enough is enough” and move on. Yes, there had been Tom, who was a disaster in the end, but now, seven years after first meeting Sherlock, Molly is at peace.

She has friends. She is head of her department at work, she is godmother to an amazing little girl, and her cat has just had the most adorable kittens ever. The last two are currently holding her attention as she watches Rosie stare at the litter wide-eyed. Rosie looks up at Molly, then looks back down at the kittens resting next to their mother’s warm belly. She sticks an arm out, aiming to poke the one closest to her before Molly intervenes.

“Oh no, darling, let’s let them sleep, okay? It’s naptime.”

Rosie looks over at the playpen in the middle of Molly’s living room, and her little brows scrunch in confusion.

“Not your naptime, silly goose. The kittens’.” Molly bops the toddler’s nose playfully. “You and I are going to eat lunch right now.” She puts her arms out and Rosie comes willingly.

They settle into their usual routine of lunch, story time, and then nap. Though Rosie attends daycare during the week, Molly has been quick to offer her help on the weekends. With Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson both on hand at Baker Street, Molly sometimes feels like she’s slacking in her corner of the godparent trifecta, though everyone is quick to assure her otherwise.

And if Sherlock being the most responsible godparent isn’t a complete surprise, after the way he’d behaved around the time of her birth and christening, Molly isn’t sure what would surprise her more. Yes, he’s obviously cared since the moment he told John and Mary they were to become parents, but caring and actually helping out are two separate entities.

Then again, Sherlock would do anything for John. Molly has known that from the beginning, too. The moment Molly saw the way Sherlock looked at John, as if he was the most intriguing thing Sherlock had ever seen, she knew that Sherlock was far more gone on him than she would ever be on Sherlock. But when neither made a move, she had dared to hope, like an idiot. These days, she considers them both far bigger idiots than she ever was. She had a silly crush that she let get a bit out of hand. They, on the other hand, are completely blind to the rainbow- and sparkle-covered elephant dancing the hula in the room. They’re adept after seven years.

Things have changed, though, recently. Molly thought they acted different at Sherlock’s birthday, but that had been right after their latest reconciliation—and fuck if those two don’t act like teenagers, breaking up every other week and passing “I don’t want to speak to you again” notes; I mean, she realizes the last “break-up” was pretty serious, but frankly, Molly’s had enough. But now that she’s had a chance to interact with them more, Molly can definitely see the changes.

John is softer now. She’s not exactly sure what happened at the hospital, but she knows John was involved with Sherlock’s injuries, and that John has been beating himself up since then. He doesn’t exactly treat Sherlock as if he’s fragile, but he is definitely more aware of how he behaves toward Sherlock than he has been in a long time.

And while Sherlock doesn’t seem to resent John for his part in whatever happened, his gaze does appear less…adoring? Besotted? It’s not that Sherlock looks any less loving. More like he’s taken John down from the pedestal he put him on so long ago.

That’s it, Molly thinks. They each treat the other as if they’re human.

It makes sense. Molly has always seen people at their most human as they lay on the slab in front of her. She sees their life stories where others see empty shells. For the past couple of years, John and Sherlock have been empty shells. Molly’s heart broke for her friends, watching them both spiral further down and further away from each other but, never very good with dealing with people’s emotions, Molly hadn’t been sure what to do. Thank fuck for Mrs. Hudson.

And, when John and Sherlock were at their lowest, their emptiest, they saw their own mistakes _and_ each other’s, and they helped each other back up, but with the pedestals gone. Now they see each other clearly, the way Molly reads the dead.

It’s heartening, to see two broken men come back not once, not twice, but three times. Though Molly sincerely hopes that the theatrics are over now. Those two deserve a rest. They all do, in fact. Molly would be more than content to spend the rest of her days working, being with her friends, playing with her furbabies, and spoiling her goddaughter.

She may be better at being a speaker for the dead, but the living aren’t so bad sometimes.


	3. I’m Not Your Housekeeper

Martha Hudson hums the tune of “I Only Have Eyes for You” for the millionth time as she mixes dough for scones, groaning in frustration halfway through. She doesn’t even like Frank Sinatra, but, for some reason, the song has been on repeat in her head since the night before. It probably has something to do with the way her boys had been making cow eyes at each other as they’d come home the night before.

Seriously, seven years in, and they _still_ haven’t managed it properly. She’s thrown hint after hint at them from the day they’d moved in, hoping that they’d figure it out, but no dice. They had become thick as thieves, but they’d also become thick in the head, and no amount of hinting, subtle or otherwise, would sway them.

Something tells Martha that the day is coming soon, though. John has moved back in, although he’s occupying the wrong bed, and Sherlock has been glowing since he went from single to trio. Laughter filters regularly through her ceiling (along with some bickering, of course, because it _is_ John and Sherlock), and she could cry for finally hearing footsteps clattering up and down the stairs at all hours of the day and night. She doesn’t even mind the pram that has taken up residence in the front hall.

She ponders the next part of her plan. Her scheming didn’t end the moment she popped the boot and observed John’s stunned and Sherlock’s annoyed expressions. That got them working together again, though not happily at first.

But they’ve needed more nudges since then to move them in the right direction. Martha is the one who prattled on about how lovely it was to hear more than just Sherlock stomping about when John and Rosie came to visit, which _finally_ led to John moving back in. She had to offer her babysitting services to make that one happen, though. Good thing that Rosie is a lovely child.

Speaking of, she needs to finish child-proofing her flat so that she can casually mention that she would just _adore_ to have Rosie stay the night with her for some bonding time. Rosie has just learned to walk and always manages to find the most dangerous object in the room, the dear—just like her parents (all three of them).

The boys need a night alone, without a case or a baby to distract them. Should she jimmy the door locks and cut the power to force them to talk? No, Sherlock would see through that in a second. She supposes it’s best just to give them a few advantages and leave them to their own devices. It’s either give them a night to themselves, or have a gang of ruffians beat one of them up just enough so the other has to play nurse for a few days. Martha makes a note to remember that later, if the need arises.

Still, given all of the obstacles in their way, she’s just happy they are where they are now—friends and flatmates; each the most important person in the other’s life (along with Rosie, of course). They are finally talking to one another, airing long pent-up feelings and grievances that have had too long to fester. They might not have made it back to this point at all, if the right (read: wrong) circumstances had occurred. But Martha would prefer not to dwell on the many ways things could have gone wrong.

After the pastries are baked and the tea is made, she takes a tray upstairs, hearing Rosie’s little giggle before she crosses the threshold. Sherlock is on his hands and knees, lumbering after Rosie, who is trotting around the room as fast as her newly walking legs can carry her. John is watching them from the sofa, book forgotten in his hand. His smile is soft and warm. He looks content, not a look Martha has seen on John’s face much since…well, since Sherlock returned, actually. There were moments, of course, always, but the look is a much more frequent visitor these days, which gives Martha hope. And these days, Sherlock returns the look, face to face. They don’t hide so much anymore. If one of them is happy, the other knows. It’s a good start. Or, a good return to the start.

Martha wishes they hadn’t gone through all of the pain and anger and confusion of the last few years, but perhaps they needed it to become the men they are now. Sherlock is calmer, John more open. They still bicker and complain, but there’s an adultness to both of them that wasn’t there before. They’ve finally settled into their skins, become the men they want to be.

And now, for just a bit more help….

Martha Hudson is certainly not their housekeeper, but she’s never said anything about not being a matchmaker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had quite a bit a fun with this chapter. Mrs. Hudson is just such a delightful character. Even with the many issues of S4, I did adore her character, especially in TLD. Of _course_ she sees much more than she ever lets on. There's no way Sherlock would be friends with her otherwise. My goal in life is to be Mrs. Hudson when I grow up (minus the murdering, drug dealing husband, of course). 
> 
> Good ol' Lestrade is up next. Can't say when that chapter will go up, though, as I'm completely blanking on what to write for it. I'll come up with something... hopefully soon. *sigh*


	4. As Ever, Watson, You See But Do Not Observe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Greg was supposed to be up next, but he's being a stubborn bastard. In the meantime, Rosie demanded her say, and I just couldn't say no.
> 
> I apologize in advance for not writing baby well at all. I did feel her perspective was relevant, though, so I'm putting this up anyway.

Rosie is happy. She is warm, she has things to play with, there are interesting people always around. Best of all, the two people that she loves most are happy. They weren’t always happy. When it was just her and Daddy, things were always sad and lonely. Their house was cold and dark. Happy people came to visit, but they always left sad. And Sherlock was never there.

She thinks that's what makes Daddy the saddest, not seeing Sherlock. But Sherlock came by once and Molly was mean to him. Rosie doesn’t understand why, but she thinks it had something to do with Mummy going away. Rosie doesn’t really remember Mummy, except that she had a soft voice, a cuddly body, and milk. But Mummy went away and Daddy got angry and Sherlock got sad.

After a long time, Sherlock starts visiting, and Daddy gets less sad. Daddy starts laughing again, and that makes Rosie laugh. Even Sherlock laughs sometimes. Not when others are around, but when it’s just Daddy and Sherlock and Rosie, Sherlock laughs.

Rosie loves to listen to Sherlock. His voice makes her calm and happy. He tries to teach her things, but he is a rotten teacher. He talks about boring things. But Rosie loves him, despite that.

Some time after life becomes happier, Daddy and Sherlock put things in boxes, and they go to another place. A place Daddy and Rosie go sometimes to visit Sherlock. It is called Home. Whenever they visit, Daddy always calls it Home. Rosie likes Home. After the boxes, Rosie and Daddy stay at Home all the time. They sleep upstairs together at night, which Rosie likes. She likes to listen to Daddy’s breathing. It makes her sleepy. During the day, Rosie sleeps there alone, but if she makes the right noises, Sherlock comes up. He talks to her and tells her stories.

After they talk, Sherlock brings her downstairs to her favorite room where everything interesting happens. He’d puts her in a box called a playpen. Daddy yells at the playpen when it doesn’t open correctly. Rosie laughs when that happens. But Sherlock puts a hand on Daddy’s shoulder and says nice things. Then Daddy calms down and smiles while Sherlock makes the playpen work.

Lots of people come to visit them at Home. Sometimes it’s people Rosie likes, like Molly, Mrs. Hudson, or Lestrade-Greg (Rosie isn’t sure of his name; Daddy calls him Greg, but Sherlock calls him Lestrade and sometimes other names that sounded like Greg but aren’t). Other times strangers come to visit. Sometimes these are good people and sometimes they are bad. Rosie always knows which ones are good, and usually Sherlock knows, too, but not always. Daddy thinks everyone is good, but Rosie and Sherlock love him anyway, despite that.

Today is a boring day. No one except Mrs. Hudson comes to visit. Daddy talks softly while he feeds Rosie after they wake up. Sherlock comes in, and the things he says make Daddy laugh, which makes Rosie laugh. Sherlock stands behind Daddy and talks to Rosie, something about the park, which Rosie likes, so she claps.

He smiles at her and pats Daddy on the shoulder before going into the living room. Daddy has that special smile that he wears when he thinks no one is looking, but Rosie is looking.

Later, Rosie shows off how well she can walk by letting Sherlock chase her around the room. Sherlock laughs and Daddy smiles and Rosie loves them both so much. She’s glad they’re happy again.

Rosie sleeps. When she wakes up, she makes the noise that tells Sherlock she’s ready to get up. He takes a long time coming to get her. She wonders if he can’t hear her, so she makes herself louder. Finally, Sherlock comes in. He’s smiling, but he doesn’t talk much. He just cuddles her close and takes her downstairs.

Instead of letting Daddy yell at the playpen, Sherlock sits on the sofa next to Daddy, and Rosie cuddles with Daddy. Rosie thinks Sherlock wants to cuddle with Daddy, too. He sits really close, so that they’re touching. But if he wants to cuddle, why doesn’t he just do it? Sherlock does silly things sometimes.

Daddy and Sherlock talk for a long time, and it’s boring, so Rosie climbs down to look for interesting things. She hopes that they’re busy talking and don’t notice her. They always take the really interesting things away from Rosie. It’s annoying. Rosie puts the interesting things in the middle of the room so Daddy and Sherlock can find them. She thinks they’ll like them. The boring stuff she throws.

When she’s done, she looks for Daddy and Sherlock. They’re still on the couch, not cuddling. They have on their serious faces, which is boring. Rosie is about to go back to her pile of interesting things when the door downstairs opens. Rosie knows by the sound the stairs make that it’s Lestrade-Greg. This makes Rosie happy. Lestrade-Greg is always funny, and Sherlock is funny and happy when he comes to visit.

The sound on the stairs makes Daddy and Sherlock stand up quickly. They don’t look at each other. Sherlock comes to see Rosie’s pile of interesting things while Daddy says hi to Lestrade-Greg.

Rosie says hi to Lestrade-Greg and tells him to come look at her interesting things. Lestrade-Greg looks at Daddy and Sherlock, and Rosie knows he thinks they should cuddle, too. Why are they being so silly? Rosie can’t understand, so she goes back to her interesting things. They’re better than the boring things everyone else is talking about.

Rosie is happy. Daddy and Sherlock are happy. Everything is good.


	5. On Behalf of the Impossibly Imbecilic Scotland Yard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you’ve noticed from previous notes, this chapter has been a bitch to write. Greg’s voice and POV just wouldn’t come to me. After grinding through this, I’ve come to realize that this is just poor Greg’s lot in life (according to the show, at least). He’s there to interrupt and notice, but never to really participate.
> 
> So I’m sorry if this chapter is a bit meh and short, but it truly does fit the DI’s characterization.

Greg knows the moment he enters 221B that he’s interrupted… _Something_ between John and Sherlock. He has yet to figure out what exactly is happening with them. Things have been charged between the two idiots since John moved back in, but Greg doesn’t think they tipped over into coupledom just yet. There’s still too much tension.

He’s not even sure what they want from each other. John obviously fought it so hard that he ended up married to an assassin. Sherlock alternately wanting it and eschewing it ended up with him faking his suicide and then planning the love of his life’s wedding, both of which complicated everything entirely too much.

Greg had been at his wit’s end after Mary’s death, with John not talking to anyone and drinking himself into an early grave, while Sherlock holed up at Baker Street with enough drugs to kill an elephant. Greg had been seriously close to bringing Sherlock in on charges, but Big Brother had intervened, saying he would take care of it. It was obvious that he’d taken his sweet time there, though; enough so that Sherlock was half dead by the time Mrs. Hudson had taken matters into her own hands.

But things are better now. Tense, but romantic and sexual tension are highly preferable to death and drugs, so he’ll take it.

So when Greg walks in on the _Something_ one afternoon, he’s annoyed with his timing but relieved that things are finally coming to a head. Sherlock and John are avoiding each other—John talking too heartily to Greg while Sherlock seems entirely too fascinated with the pile of bric-a-brac Rosie has heaped in the middle of the floor. Greg wishes he’d been just an hour later in arriving, because the way these two are looking, the _Big Something_ had been moments away from happening. If his poor timing sets them back another week, he will scream. (Not that he wants to walk in on the _Other_ _Something_ that might occur after the _Big Something_ , but if he has to suffer for the sake of love, he’ll do it.)

Greg wracks his brain. He really does need Sherlock’s help, but if he can find a way to make this a quick one, he might be able to salvage the moment. And Cupid must be smiling down on him, because as he’s describing the case to the two oblivious fuckers, he has a flash of genius.

“Of course! The sister-in-law was lying when she said she saw the plumber’s vehicle on the street.” Greg drops his head into his hands. “I should’ve noticed that during the interview.”

“Yes, you should have. Now, if you’re quite done, you should be on your way. There’s a sister-in-law in need of arresting.” Sherlock ushers him to the door.

John protests. “We can at least offer the poor sod a cup of tea. He’s likely to be busy all evening filling out paperwork. He’ll need a decent cuppa.”

Sherlock shooing and John procrastinating. Oh yeah, Greg definitely interrupted _Something_.

“No, no. I’ll be fine. I should be going. I’ve got an arrest to make. Sorry to intrude for no reason.” Greg makes his exit before he’s wrangled into a cup of tea he could honestly use right now.

If he didn’t have an arrest to make, he’d drop in on Mrs. Hudson to see if they can pull together a plan to move things along. Seven years is far too long. He’s tired of watching and waiting. Oh well, that will have to wait. He has a job to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He may say he’s happy to take one for the team, but Greg is actually quite happy to not have walked in on anything more than an awkward conversation.
> 
> Also, I’ve decided on just two more chapters for this. _Observations_ started out as a collection of separate ficlets, but the story grew more interconnected as I thought on it, so it’s now officially a complete story. Next up is Ella to give her stamp of approval, then we’ll get a special someone to usher us through to the finale. ;)
> 
> Chapter 6 will be up tomorrow!


	6. You Read My Writing Upside Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am in no way qualified to say whether Ella’s behavior is professional, but it seems logical to me that as long as she sticks with doctor-patient confidentiality, she should be able to see both parties of a relationship (without the initial intent of couples counseling, of course). If I’m wrong…well, poetic license, amiright? It’s not as if Moftiss haven’t employed that way more liberally than necessary.
> 
> I’m going with my headcanon that because TFP didn’t happen in this storyline, John ended up going back to Ella after the events of TLD.

Ella susses out John’s not-so-platonic feelings for his best friend fairly early on, despite them not having any sessions once John meets Sherlock. John had gone from despairing to alive between “Stuff's happening to other people” and “So tomorrow, we're off to look at a flat. Me and the madman. Me and Sherlock Holmes.”

Ella keeps up with John’s blog at first because she worries, but later because she comes to care about these two broken men. She knows John isn’t in the best place to be starting a romantic relationship with anyone, but still she is surprised nothing more comes of their friendship.

Then Sherlock commits suicide, and John thankfully comes to see Ella. He is careful never to mention his feelings for his best friend, but they are as plain as the nose on John’s face. Ever the professional, Ella never expresses her doubts over John’s engagement and subsequent marriage once Sherlock returns, since John never asks for her opinion, but she continues to worry. She does try to ask a few leading questions, but John never twigs, perhaps willfully so. And then things happen that Ella never gets the whole story on, but she knows it’s complicated.

Throughout it all, one thing is clear: John Watson loves Sherlock Holmes more than anyone else in the world; and Sherlock is obviously invested in more than just traditional friendship.

Ella is relieved when John finally starts opening up for real soon after those unknown events bring him back to her office. He admits his repressed sexuality issues, he asks for anger management help, he stops drinking. He and Sherlock are communicating. He seems happy, comfortable in his own skin.

Sherlock, too, has improved in the few months he’s been attending sessions. His emotional immaturity led him to a deep co-dependence on the first person to see and accept him as he was. He is now learning to be more communicative and open with everyone in his life and not to pin the entirety of who he is on one person.

With both men seeing her regularly, Ella has even more trouble not saying anything concerning their relationship with each other. They could clear up their issues with just a few well-placed conversations, but while their communication with each has improved greatly, they’re still shying away from the big conversation. Hints have been made by both parties, so that’s a start. But it’s not her job to be their go-between, and she is still bound to doctor-patient confidentiality. Until they ask for couples counseling, she can only hope they manage to work it out on their own.

John hints at that possibility during their latest session. He admits that a conversation just a few hours before makes him believe that Sherlock wants something more than just friendship. And that hope allows John to finally admit what so many have known for years: “I’m in love with my best friend.”

Mere months ago, Ella would not have recommended that either man start a romantic relationship with anyone, least of all with each other, but both have made leaps in their progress. It’s easy to see that each wants to be better—healthier—for the other, and they do complement each other so nicely when they’re both in good places. So when John talks about their latest conversation, Ella feels comfortable being happy for them. She encourages John to be open with Sherlock. That even if Sherlock doesn’t share his feelings (as if that were possible), John needs to get it off his chest. Lies put them in their present situation; now it’s time for them to clear the air. John seems to agree, and he leaves the session looking more at peace than Ella has ever seen him.

A few days later, she smiles when she checks her inbox. “Couples counselling?” reads the subject from one John. H. Watson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite the fact that I'm the least romantic person alive and don't celebrate Valentine's Day, I do support anyone who does celebrate it. Therefore, I will be posting the final chapter tonight in honor of the day of love. Get ready for awkward declarations!


	7. Friend of Mine; When I Say ‘Friend’ ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought it appropriate that the skull had the last word. He has been there since the very beginning after all!
> 
> Enjoy.

If Billy had a brain or a personality or anything at all, he’d probably be annoyed with all of the drama that goes on in 221B. He’s seen everything: fights, games, machinations, laughter, tears. He’s watched two mad men come and go and hate each other and love each other. If Billy was alive, people would probably be envious of everything he’s seen. But Billy’s just a skull. Something that sits on the mantle and watches everything as it happens, never to remember it or comment on it, only to watch it. Fortunately for John and Sherlock, and unfortunately for everyone else, Billy is the only one around when _It_ happens—the thing everyone else who as ever visited the flat has been waiting to happen for seven years.

It’s an ordinary evening when _It_ happens. John has just put Rosie down for the night. Sherlock is working on an experiment in the kitchen, the kind he has to put away when Rosie is wandering the flat. He’s working on making 221C into a lab, but it’s not done yet, so for now Sherlock hides the dangerous stuff during the day.

John comes into the kitchen and glances at the table, trying to understand what Sherlock is working on. There are lots of beakers and liquids and fire. While Sherlock explains his experiment, John makes tea, then he settles in the living room with a book that he’s been trying to finish since before he and Rosie moved back to Baker Street four months before.

Every once in a while, one will say something to the other, but it’s mostly quiet and peaceful. Once Sherlock is done with the experiment, he puts everything away (he is meticulous about cleaning up with Rosie around) before wandering restlessly about the flat. He picks up the latest volume of a science journal before putting it down again. He straightens papers on the desk. He stares at the bookcase as if trying to decide what to read. Finally, after twenty minutes of agitation with furtive glances to his doctor-blogger mixed in, he cautiously picks up his violin and stares out the window.

He must make some sort of decision, because he eventually positions the instrument and begins to play. The song starts off a bit despairing, moves into light and happy, transitions to angry, then back to despairing. There are sweet moments dropped in from time to time. Finally, the piece slows, sounding both hopeful and fearful. It ends sweetly and softly.

John puts down his book early in the piece. He’s heard bits and bobs of the song over the years, starting their first week at Baker Street, but this is the first time the song has been played as a whole, at least that he’s been around to hear. His face is captivated, fond, and a bit hopeful.

When Sherlock finishes, he drops his arms, but doesn’t turn from the window.

“I’ve never heard it all together. That was brilliant,” John says quietly, as if afraid to break the mood left behind by the song.

“It’s only just finished. Or as finished as it can be right now. There’s one more bit to add to the end, but it’s not ready yet.”

“Oh? Why not?” John’s breath speeds up almost imperceptibly. His eyes move from his detective’s back down to his own hands.

Sherlock turns around, puts his violin in its case, takes a step forward to sit in his chair opposite John, but hesitates. “We…we never got to finish our conversation yesterday. I meant what I said. You and Rosie are welcome to stay for as long as you want. For…forever, if you want. I love you. Both! I love you both. And so does Mrs. Hudson. And it just seems right. Rosie should be raised with family around.”

John’s head whips up at the “I love you,” then he wilts a little as Sherlock adds the quantifier, but nods.

“I agree that Rosie seems much happier living close to you two and with Molly and Greg dropping by often. But…Sherlock, we can’t do this indefinitely. 221B isn’t suited for two adults and a child. At least…well, maybe if…but… In any case, it’s too small as it is now. You’re basically running a business out of the living room, Rosie and I are cooped up in one room upstairs… Don’t get me wrong. I love Baker Street, and it will always be home, but it’s just not going to be feasible much longer.”

“There are three options,” Sherlock says, coming to sit in his chair. His hands land restlessly on its arms, and his eyes dart about the room rather than looking directly at the man across from him.

“Oh?” The word comes out as more of a breath. John clears his throat and tries again. “What might those be?”

“I could move down to 221C with my lab, where I can also entertain clients, which leaves you to take my bedroom and gives you and Rosie room to spread out in here. This has the advantage of staying at Baker Street, with emergency minders/family for Rosie on hand.”

“We couldn’t kick you out—”

“I don’t mind, John. Not for you and Rosie. It’d be worth it, to have you both close by.”

John gives Sherlock a fond smile. “Sentiment.”

Sherlock smiles back with no antipathy or sarcasm. “Sentiment.”

“Next option?”

Sherlock picks up his phone and fiddles with it, before putting it down again. “We all move. Well, not Mrs. Hudson. But you, Rosie, and—and me. Molly lives in a nice enough neighborhood. Cheaper than central London, so we would have more space and good schools, plus, again, there would be an emergency minder nearby.” He glances up at his friend, but looks away quickly.

John cocks his head and stares for a moment. “You’d…do that? Move away from Baker Street for us? But…why?”

Sherlock stares down at his lap and speaks quickly. “It’s been proven that a child does better when there are two adults in the house. Two incomes, two people to take turns taking care of the child, social interaction. You could move in with Molly, as she’s also a godparent, but we’ve already proved that you and I can live together, and I’m infinitely more interesting than Molly. I might not be as good of a minder as Molly is, but I am smarter, and I could help ensure Rosie’s development far better. And…” Here he hesitates. “And it need only be until you feel comfortable dating again. I just want to support you—”

“What’s option three?”

Sherlock looks up from his lap. John is looking at him, loving and hopeful. The expression makes Sherlock relax his stance and slow his speech. He looks away shyly, then back again.

“Yesterday, you seemed amenable to…I thought you might…you—” Sherlock stops and takes a deep breath, then scoots forward a bit in his chair.

John mirrors him. Their chairs are already close together, so their feet bump and entangle a bit as they situate themselves. Neither moves back.

“Option three would require some adjustments beyond physical rearranging. And nothing needs to change now. But maybe, in the future, after we’ve had a chance to—” Sherlock stops for another fortifying breath. “You said once that you wanted more than you had with—with Mary.” Sherlock looks furtively at John’s face, trying to gauge his reaction. John’s expression stays fond and soft. “And that you thought I wanted something similar. You were right. So if you and I already get on better with each other than we do anyone else, could you maybe see us—”

John surges forward, putting a hand on Sherlock’s cheek as he presses their lips together. After a few moments, he backs up enough to say “Of course, you id—” but is cut off by Sherlock’s lips on his. They both relax into the kiss, neither making a move to back away this time.

Minutes pass as they learn a bit more about each other. The feel of skin, the sound of excited breaths, the places their bodies fit together so effortlessly, the way it feels to be completely open and happy with each other. If Billy could think, he would be reminded of their first night together: two men completely trusting in and complementing each other. But Billy can’t think, so he just watches.

This is so much more than the first night, though. These men have grown and changed. They have loved and lost and gained. They are older and wiser. They’re a little more broken, but mending into something stronger. And they’ve finally reached a point where they can return to that first night and move beyond it, to take it further than either was ready to seven years ago.

Soon the air carries soft laughter and murmured words. Confessions of love and vows of fidelity and forever. Though a detective and an army doctor take that final step on an ordinary night with no one around, the support of everyone who cares for them and who has waited for this moment is evident.

Billy may be the only watching, but Sherlock Holmes and John Watson are surrounded by love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so very much to everyone who has read and commented and kudoed during the posting of this fic. It started off as a simple Mycroft ficlet and then grew. Your words and support are much appreciated!


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